1971 - Want to Stay Alive Read Online Free PDF Page A

and moved to Beigler’s desk.
    “Relax, Sarg. I’ll handle anything that comes up. Any news of Fred?”
    Sergeant Fred Hess, Homicide division, was in hospital with a broken leg.
    If he hadn’t been the main stay of the division, the breaking of his leg would have been one of the big laughs at headquarters. Hess had a six-year old son, Fred Hess junior, known in the district as the Monster of Mulberry Avenue where Hess lived. The kid had tossed a kitten, owned by a sour old spinster, up a tree just for the hell of it. Hess, rather than face the spinster and feeling responsible, had climbed the tree to rescue the kitten, watched by admiring neighbours. A bough had broken and Hess had descended to the ground with some violence, breaking his leg. The kitten, of course, had come down on its own steam and Fred Hess junior had stood over his groaning father, grinning his death’s head grin, asking what the fuss was all about. It was only by fleetness of foot that saved him from a clip on the ear, thrown at him by his infuriated father.
    “Fred?” Beigler grinned. “He’s disgracing himself. The nurses are complaining about his language, but he’s mending. He should be up and out in a couple of weeks.”
    “I’ll call him,” Lepski said. “I don’t want him to worry. If he knows I’m handling his job, he’ll relax.”
    Beigler looked alarmed.
    “Don’t do that. We want him back quick. A call like that could harden his arteries.”
    As Beigler left, Lepski looked over at Detective 2nd Grade Max Jacoby who was hiding a grin.
    “Did you hear that?” he demanded. “Do you think Joe’s jealous of me?”
    “Who isn’t, Tom? Even I envy you.”
    “You do?” Lepski was pleased.
    “Yeah . . .” He shrugged. “Well, that’s the way it goes. I guess I must learn to live with it. Anything cooking?”
    “Not a thing. The blotter’s clean.”
    Lepski settled himself more comfortably in his chair.
    “What I want now is a nice juicy murder . . . a sex killing. While Fred is out of the way, this could be my big chance.” He lit a cigarette and stared off into space. “I know Fred’s no fool, but that goes for me too. Now I’ve got my promotion, Carroll’s already nagging me to try for Sergeant. Women are never satisfied.” He sighed, shaking his head. You’re lucky not to be married.”
    “Don’t I know it,” Jacoby said with feeling. “Me for freedom!”
    Lepski scowled at him.
    “Don’t think I’m knocking marriage. There’s a lot to be said for it. A young guy like you should get married. You . . .”
    The telephone bell interrupted him.
    “See?” Lepski smirked. The moment I walk in, there’s action.” He scooped up the receiver. “Police headquarters. Detective 1st Grade Lepski talking.”
    Jacoby hid a grin.
    “Give me Sergeant Beigler,” a male voice barked.
    “Sergeant Beigler is off duty,” Lepski said, frowning. Who was this jerk who thought Beigler a better contact than himself? “What is it?”
    “This is Hartley Danvaz. Is Captain Terrell there?”
    Lepski sat up straight.
    Hartley Danvaz was not only the Ballistic expert for the District Attorney, but he was also the owner of a deluxe gunsmith store that supplied the rich with every conceivable hunting weapon: a man who drew a lot of water in the City as well as being a personal friend of Lepski’s Chief.
    “No, Mr. Danvaz, the Chief’s not in yet,” Lepski said, now wishing he hadn’t taken the call. “Anything I can do?”
    “Get someone competent down here fast! I’ve had a break in!” Danvaz snapped. “Tell Captain Terrell I’d like to see him when he comes in.”
    “Sure, Mr. Danvaz. I’ll come myself, Mr. Danvaz,” Lepski said. “Be right with you, Mr. Danvaz,” and he hung up.
    “And that was Mr. Danvaz,” Jacoby said, keeping his face straight.
    “Yeah . . . trouble. Call the Chief. Danvaz has had a break in.” Getting to his feet, Lepski shoved his chair back so violently, it fell over with a